


Under the Neon Lights

by RiYuYami



Series: Sour Blessings [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Cat Demon, Crowley is not Raphael, Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Reverse Omens, Scene: Soho 1967 (Good Omens), Snake Angel, They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiYuYami/pseuds/RiYuYami
Summary: After a pleasant meeting to discuss the big heist he has planned, Aziraphale finds himself in a serious conversation with his redheaded angel friend, who has something important for him.Why does it make the demon feel guilty to finally hold in his hands what he’d been wanting for over a hundred years?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Sour Blessings [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026102
Kudos: 6





	Under the Neon Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Got another Reverse Omens au for you guys, hope you like the 1960’s scene rewritten to fit this au!
> 
> Warning: Reverse Omens, cat demon Aziraphale, snake angel Crowley, Crowley was Samael not Raphael, the 1967 scene is getting a big rewrite, Madame Tracy is swapped with Shadwell and is the witchfinder, they/them pronouns for Crowley
> 
> On with the fic!

Aziraphale watched with curiosity as the strange woman in an old army jacket and bright, flowery skirt went along her merry way. 

Witchfinders, hm, Aziraphale had no idea that they were still a thing, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have this strange Marjorie Potts lady on his side, just in case. You never know when you need someone like that to help with a task or two.

With a whistle, Aziraphale moved to go across the street to his beloved antique shop, only to stop when he noticed the black, polished Bentley that had not been there just moments before. He thought he had sensed an ethereal presence in the air when he was talking with Ms. Potts, but he had been distracted by her nonsense. He could see the driver in the front seat, wondering quietly to himself what Crowley was doing here.

The door opened and he watched as Crowley slipped out, dressed in their signature dark gray, a rather ambiguous number with a clear pattern of paisley added to the lapels and rolled sleeves in a pale rose color. He found the choice in clothing rather fetching on his angel friend, but then again, Crowley was always more up-to-date when it came to the fashion of the times. Aziraphale himself had at least added something new to his own outfit for this era, he found he was a bit fond of tweed, which made him look rather smart, if the demon did say so himself.

However, he knew Crowley thought it looked rather clashing with his tartan, as this fact was pointed out last week over sherry, though the demon chose to ignore it.

He smiled brightly at Crowley, giving a little wave. “Good evening, darling! What brings you to Soho this fine, though damp, night?”

Crowley stopped in front of him, frowning softly. “Aziraphale, I need a word with you.” Their tone was careful, though heavy. As if there was something weighing greatly on their mind. 

A cold chill ran up Aziraphale’s back and he gently took their hand, pulling the angel towards the front of the shop. “What do you wish to speak about? Perhaps we can discuss it over a nice drink? I just bought something with a fruit bouquet the other day from the new shop that opened down on...” He spoke, moving to unlock the door, but a thin hand stopped him completely, his words trailing off at the end.

“I visit Soho enough to hear things.” Crowley spoke softly, avoiding eye contact. “I hear you’re settin’ up a plan to rob a church. Aziraphale, it’s too dangerous. Holy water wouldn’t just kill your body, it would… no, it  _ will _ destroy you completely. I think you need to put off your plans.” 

Aziraphale made a small, uncomfortable chirping sound, feeling his mouth twitching. He then scoffed, acting like the small plea didn’t bother him. 

“You’ve already told me what you think a hundred and five years ago.” He was still bitter, he just kept it more hidden than Crowley had done decades ago. 

“And again, twenty six years ago, you dumb cat.” The redhead tisked, removing their hand, leaning against the door in a lazy stance that was clearly too tense to be natural. “And I haven’t changed my mind. And though I made you promise me that you wouldn’t ask for it again, I never did tell you that you couldn’t find other means to obtain it.” 

Aziraphale swallowed at the look he saw behind those ridiculous, pink-tinted glasses the other wore. “I see you found a loophole, you always do.” The words were barely a whisper, but Aziraphale heard them anyway, trying to ignore the spark of guilt that just went off in his chest.

They shoved their hands in their pockets, the world around them was ignored. It was just two inhuman beings, the soft glow of neon lights, and the rain as Crowley looked up at him. “But I won’t have you riskin’ your life, not even for something dangerous. So…”

They started to pull something from their jacket pocket and Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “You can call off the robbery.” Crowley mumbled, holding up the item.

In Crowley’s hand was a thermos flask, the pattern around it was Aziraphale’s own tartan. The cap, however, was black, the neon lights around them reflecting their lights on the gloss of it, making it nearly iridescent. 

“Don’t go unscrewing the cap.” Crowley spoke as casually as they could, though their voice held a small tremble in it.

With a tremble in his own hands, Aziraphale carefully took the flask. He could sense it, even through the layered plastic, the faint buzzing of holy, angelic energy. It had to be from a pure source, either straight from Heaven or Crowley had made it himself, this was not made in a human church. 

“It’s the real thing?” He asked to confirm his theory, looking at the angel who adjusted their glasses, trying in vain to hide their eyes.

“The holiest.”

That was it, that was all the confirmation that Aziraphale needed to know on where it came from. Crowley had made this. If they had said ‘straight from the source’ or something of the sort, he’d know it was Heaven’s, but such a simple, cautious reply… It was like Crowley gave Aziraphale a gun that he had loaded himself, just because the demon asked. 

That spark of guilt was turning into a small fire in the pit of Aziraphale’s damned essence. 

“After everything you said?” Aziraphale wanted to kick himself for his tone, it made him sound weak in his own ears. 

Crowley nodded and Aziraphale frowned, holding the flask like it was the most delicate item in the universe. “Should I say thank you, darling?”

There was a headshake. “Better not.”

A small pause fell between them before Aziraphale bit his lip, looking at his friend. “I still wish to say thank you, I… you have no idea how much this means to me, this is…” 

He took Crowley’s hand into his own, giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you, Crowley. My dear, this means the world to me, what you’re doing, it’s… it’s so important. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for such a risk.”

He watched them swallow thickly, returning the squeeze. There was something in their expression, something that made Aziraphale’s heart skip a beat. Oh, he knew that look, he had seen it so often, over so many centuries.

The former Archangel had a terrible habit of wearing their heart so openly on their sleeve.

“Can I take you anywhere?” Crowley asked, voice nearly cracking. 

Aziraphale’s heart then took a swan dive into his stomach. The look, the soft, nervous tone to their voice, Crowley was asking for too much, too soon. As much as he would love to go anywhere with them, now was the wrong time, it was too dangerous still...

His hand let go, returning to the key in the door, unlocking it. “No, thank you.” He replied, and saw the nervous, hopeful expression on the angel’s face quickly wither away. “Oh, don’t look so disappointed, perhaps one day we could… I don’t know, have a picnic. Or dine at the Ritz. There’s so much we could do, dear angel.”

Crowley looked at him before looking towards the Bentley. “I’ll give you a lift. Anywhere you want to go, anywhere you’d like.” There was a plea in those words, and the terrible feeling in Aziraphale’s stomach got worse. The guilty fire was burning his core and he feared himself in that moment.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley…” He whispered, leaning forward, gently placing a kiss on their cheek.

In response, he heard a hitched breath, before a hand gripped at his tweed jacket. “Aziraphale, please, I-” He could see it in their eyes, in the reflection of light that passed over those pink lenses. 

Heartbreak.

The demon was too soft, much too gentle with this angel, an angel who could kill him with ease. And Aziraphale found that he didn’t care, he just didn’t want to be the reason for the sorrow in his friend’s eyes. He took their hand, placing the thermos back into it. “Crowley, I know I’ve asked for this, and I am so thankful, but… it would be safer with you.”

Crowley looked down at the flask before turning their gaze back to him, confusion clear as day on their face. “I don’t understand.”

“In time, this will be needed, I’m sure of it. But I will come to you when I need the insurance.” He hoped Crowley understood that he was putting his safety, his life, in the angel’s hands. That was all he could do to show that he cared, he knew how important he was to the redhead, how much they cared about him in return, but now was not the time for these things.

At least… not to be said out loud. 

It wasn’t safe yet.

“Good night, Crowley. Mind how you go.” He stated, turning to go inside the shop before Crowley could do anything.

The angel stood on the doorstep, holding the flask in their hands, staring at the door. A neon sign across the street stuttered, the shape of the light looking like a halo behind their head, blinking on and off. They held the flask close to their chest, giving a silent nod in understanding, before returning to the Bently.

They’ll hold onto this request, as their friend asked them to. Aziraphale said he needed it for insurance, hopefully he wouldn’t be needing it any time soon.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale is very aware of Crowley’s feelings for him, sadly, he is too nervous to be open about them having a relationship just yet. Hell and Heaven are always lurking, you never know if someone will see something.
> 
> As for why Crowley has the thermos rather than Aziraphale in this au, well… it will be touched upon in the main story, when I get to that part of it. But this is also meant to be Aziraphale’s apology for rejecting Crowley. He cares deeply for them, he loves them, but he’s scared for them, and would rather Crowley understand this with his actions of returning the Holy Water than keeping it himself. If Crowley has it, then that means that Aziraphale trusts them enough for him to go to them in times of trouble.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I’m always happy to take requests for this au, just send me a time period and I’ll see what I can write up!


End file.
